He's My Tramp
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Epilogue to "He's A Tramp", I guess. See how Arthur handles being without his two favorite fixes. Of course, he has Alfred to ease things along. USUK. One-shot.


**Good grief this thing just keeps growing! :P Just a fluffy little epilogue to the surprisingly popular three-shot.**

 **Shout out to** **Katgirl129 for making the suggestion in their review! You triggered one of my runaway plot bunnies. :) See what happens when you grace my stories with reviews? ;)  
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 **Enjoy!**

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Alfred glanced at his watch as he threw the car into park. Okay, still not too late yet. Mathew wouldn't be worrying yet, at least. Besides, Alfred didn't plan on staying long. Just to check on Arthur. Then he'd head back home. It was still a routine for him, even though the trial period was over.

Arthur was going on twenty weeks sober, just over five whole months. Alfred was very proud of him, actually, even if he did like to check daily to make sure his boyfriend wasn't slipping. Better still, getting clean wasn't the only improvement Arthur had made. Considering Alfred had been uncomfortably fond of the old Arthur, he liked this new version even more.

Bounding up to the door, after double checking to make sure his car was locked, Alfred flipped around to the newest key on the ring. He jammed it into the lock, opening the door. Arthur had initially fumed when he'd found out, but mostly because Francis had been the one to give it to him.

"Artie?" he called, stepping inside and turning the lock back.

A shaggy, sandy blond head poked out of the kitchen. "Still at it, are we?"

Alfred grinned. "Yep. How ya doing?"

Arthur immerged, making a face. "Nothing ever changes, I don't see why you always-

It was Alfred's idea of a smoke test. They both knew no amount of mouthwash and mints would get rid of the taste completely, and despite Arthur's occasional grumbling he hadn't asked Alfred to stop. This time was no different. Rather than protest, he kissed Alfred back, dominating it, tangling a hand in his t-shirt.

When they separated, both a bit breathless, Alfred grinned. "You're clean."

Arthur rolled his eyes, turning back to the kitchen. "As usual. Isn't it a school night?"

"Yeah. I'm not staying long. What 'cha up to?"

"Working," said Arthur absently. "Not to be rude, but unless you can keep it down you'd best leave, poppet."

"What're ya working on?" asked Alfred, trailing him into the kitchen.

Arthur grimaced, returning to a kitchen table piled high with books and papers. He plopped down in front of the glowing laptop screen, frowning at it. "Trying to decide where I should pick things up. Technically I graduated high school, I suppose. They accepted my application, anyway. Thought I'd take a few over the summer, see how it goes. Who did you have for English 101?"

Alfred beamed. "You're going back to school, Iggy? That's great!"

Arthur had already managed to scrounge together a job, of sorts. He'd barely been getting by before, unable to hold down a job for more than a year at a time. Part of his improvement was getting a steady job as a dishwasher in one of the local restaurants, and while it wasn't the best gig in town he was doing better with it than anything he had before. He was getting a steady pay check, he was sleeping more, he no longer looked washed out and vaguely zombified all the time, and while Francis had informed them he'd always been tsundere, his attitude had improved to some degree. If nothing else, he swore less and seemed to be in a better mood more often. It was...nice.

Even his clothes had changed, which Alfred hadn't anticipated. One day he'd dropped in and found Arthur in slacks, a button down long sleeved shirt, and a _sweeter vest_. The Arthur he'd first met wouldn't be caught dead in a sweeter vest. When the boy had stared at him, mouth open, Arthur had scowled and informed him of all the nasty things that would fly into it. These days it was really up for grabs what he'd wear, but there were fewer band t-shirts and more slacks. Today for example he was wearing black and ripped jeans with a half buttoned short sleeved shirt, which Alfred found to be a very appealing combination. He was barefoot, and the gloves were missing again. Arthur hadn't worn them very much lately, something about smelling too much like smoke.

"Shout a little louder, I don't think they could hear you in China," Arthur grumbled now, fingers flitting briskly across the keyboard.

"Sorry," said Alfred, not at all apologetic as he plopped down in one of the empty chairs. "So, are ya going to that meeting tomorrow?"

Arthur paused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm perfectly capable of going by myself."

Alfred pouted. "How come you never let me go?"

"Because this is something I need to do on my own, poppet. Now unless you're willing to provide insight on professors I really need you to be quiet. One of the others didn't come in, so they kept me late today."

Frowning, Alfred peered carefully at Arthur's face, quickly forgetting about his banishment from the AA meetings. Sure enough, there were bags forming under Arthur's eyes, and he looked more tired than usual. Before, Alfred had always thought they looked more like toxic acid, bloodshot from alcohol and lazy from a nicotine high, lit by the small flame of his lighter. These days, though, they looked more like emeralds. Less angry, more relaxed, happier, sober.

"How long did they keep you? When did you get home?" Wait, his hair was still wet. He always showered right after he got back from work. His morning shift started at eleven. It was almost ten.

"Not long. The servers get it worse than I do. Now please, Alfred, hush or go."

Alfred sat back, chewing his lip. Arthur had a lot to prove, it was why he never complained when things like this happened. Considering the kid who 'didn't come in' on a regular basis was a known junkie, Arthur stayed late more often than not. It meant more money, but he always came home tired. Alfred wished he'd find something better, though until he could get a degree of some sort or prove he'd cleaned up, preferably both, anything better was out of the question. He'd developed too much of a reputation.

"Mrs. Fisher was good for English 101, but you'll want Mr. Bruner for 102. What else are you taking?"

Arthur cracked a weary smile. Alfred beamed back. They spent the next half hour composing a schedule for the next available semester, and then making a list of what he'd need after that. Alfred was roughly two semesters ahead, so he had a pretty good idea of who you wanted and who you wanted to avoid. They were currently coming up on spring break, and registration for the summer classes would be open soon.

Alfred waited until they'd covered everything before scooting closer and kissing Arthur's cheek. The Brit blinked at him, cheeks turning pink as he asked, "What was that for?"

"For being you. I'm really proud of you, ya know."

The pink got deeper, even as Arthur scoffed. "It's hardly like I did it for you, you're bigheaded enough as it is."

Alfred ignored this, placing his next kiss on the side of Arthur's neck, bared by the skewed shirt collar. "If ya say so, Iggy."

"I-I thought you said you couldn't stay long," snapped Arthur, though he wasn't pushing him away.

"I can't. Does that mean I'm not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?"

With one last peck to his lips, Alfred stood. "See ya tomorrow, Artie," he said cheerfully, striding back towards the door.

"Bloody wanker!"

Alfred grinned. Well, he wouldn't be Arthur anymore if he was a teddy bear all the time, would he? Every now and then he liked to poke the bear a little, just to make sure.

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